


Fatherhood

by Blink23



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic, Kink Meme, M/M, Mpreg, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:30:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5955454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blink23/pseuds/Blink23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One would assume George Washington would be allowed to easily settle into domesticity after spending years in charge of a bloody, difficult revolution. They would be wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I'm trash. And just discovered the kink meme, with things to fill. Also I can apparently write more than one mpreg fic without thinking about it, as I've also written with Ben/Bradford, but that one's turning out long as hell and way more dramatic, but no less historically inaccurate and great at pretending wives don't exist and ignoring how horribly homophobic the time period was. Washington's relationship with his mother is accurate, though; she was a difficult woman apparently, and they didn't get along. Bushrod was actually his nephew, who was is heir in real life.

The weather, it seemed, had decided to shift to fit his mood. This morning it had been beautiful, if a bit chilly; George had awoken to warm bed and even warmer man in his arms, the children quiet in their shared cot. He had loathed to get up and leave, knowing what his day would consist of. Now he was soaked nearly to the skin in pouring rain, his mood having soured considerably thanks to the visit he had decided to make to his mother. 

He sighed, urging his horse faster, wanting out of the rain. The last hour he had rolled what she had said around in his mind and found himself more and more frustrated and angered by it.

_“He'll never be legitimate, and she'll bear the markings of what she is: the daughter of a whore and two men who defy god. She'll never make a proper match. If you had any good sense you would do what I told you the minute you announced that boy had trapped you: send them back to where they came from and forget them.”_

He had tried — repeatedly — to reason with her, to no avail. When it became obvious she wasn't going budge on the matter he had left, not wanting to hear anymore of what she thought he should do to his family. 

Home came into view much sooner than it usually would have, after pushing his horse harder than normal thanks to his stressful day. He handed off the animal without even bothering to note who he was giving her to when he arrived at the stables, distracted as he made his way up to the main house.

His hat and cloak were discarded as he entered before making his way down the hall to the bedroom he knew his family was occupying. A warmth grew in his chest just thinking about what was finally there for him, after months of waiting and a terrifying two days of not knowing if Ben would ever open his eyes again.

Benjamin Tallmadge was exactly where he was to be expected: dosing in bed, propped up on pillows with Lawrence on his bare chest. He was, however, surprised to find Billy Lee in a chair in the corner rocking Helena, her little hand wrapped around one of his fingers as he cooed at her. 

“Women's work, Mister Lee? Did the war make you soft?”

Billy smiled, standing from his seat. He held her as George removed his damp coat, leaving him in just his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, handing the baby off to George and taking the discarded clothing.

“She was fussing, and there was no one around to take her, so I just calmed her down. I figured it was better I do it than those two wake up. If you'll excuse me now.”

He nodded and Billy slipped by, closing the door softly behind him. Helena was awake, but whatever fuss she had made to grab Billy's attention as he passed their bedroom was gone. Instead she blinked serenely up at him, and George took a moment to press a kiss to the tuft of red hair that covered her head.

“How was your meeting then?”

He looked up from their daughter to meet Ben's eyes, smiling at him. He looked barely awake, but healthy; the twins had come only a week ago and it had pushed his body to its limit. The doctors had insisted on bed rest and not much else for the time being, and he had spent the last seven days in and out of consciousness, waking up when the children or George required his attention but otherwise resting.

“Awful, but I suppose it isn't that important now.”

Ben frowned, “I thought you were just meeting Thomas today?”

“I was in discussions with Jefferson this morning in Alexandria about his departure to France, yes. I went to my mother, afterwards. I figured it was best to let her hear about their birth from me, rather than a secondhand source.”

Ben winced, cuddling Lawrence closer. He had met the woman only once, when she had come to their encampment one summer in some misguided attempt to bring morale like the other wives and mothers who followed the camp. She was terrifying, and she had made it clear that she hated him and thought he was going after her son with plans to be his kept boy. He had it on good authority that when she had found out he was going to have her grandchildren she had exploded in a rant so profanity laden it would make even Caleb blush, and Ben was glad he was in Long Island visiting his father rather than present for it in Virginia.

“And how did she respond?”

He broke Ben's eye contact to look at Helena, swaying her gently. 

She was so small. They both were, really, though Lawrence was almost a pound heavier. The fact that all three of them made it was a miracle; most men didn't survive delivery, and most children born at only eight months didn't last through the night. Yet there the four of them were, together, happy and healthy. 

“She thinks I'm making a mistake, making Lawrence my heir and legitimizing the both of them.”

There was silence from the bed, and George continued to sway their daughter until her eyes closed and she relaxed in his grip, nodding off.

“She might not be entirely wrong, you know.”

He glanced up from her to watch Ben as he stood up, wincing as he shifted onto his feet, and placed Lawrence in his cot near the fireplace.

“We've discussed this.”

“And Bushrod would be a fine heir over Lawrence,” he said, hobbling back to bed, “He's been raised for this since he was an infant-”

“Benjamin, they are our children. We created them, together, in our bed,” His lips quirked, “Well, maybe not bed. My desk is also an option. And the porch, and that time you insisted on swimming in one of the ponds if I remember my timing correctly, though that might have been after they had been conceived.”

Ben didn't laugh. He didn't even crack a smile, instead his face kept the same sad, tired expression.

“We can never be married,” Ben said softly, “They'll carry the stigma of being born out of wedlock for their whole lives, even if you acknowledge them as your own. You know they're going to elect you to some form of office, and when they do those who oppose you will use us to attack you, to attack anything they don't agree with. The world outside of the army or congress have no idea who I even am, and once they find out, it will be terrible. People have been attacked and assaulted for less, and even though your position offers us protection, we can't-”

“Stop,” George ordered firmly, “Stop this right now. None of that means anything. If they see it fit to attack me for something so stupid it will reflect poorly on them, not on me, or you, or our children. I know you are stubborn and obsessive over the things and people you love, but I am telling you right now to not worry.” 

“But George-”

“I am not raising them to think that they are something shameful, and you deserve to be cloistered away like you're a pretty young concubine there to meet my unnatural urges. That's the end of it, Benjamin.”

Ben he worried his lip with his teeth, but kept silent. George contented himself with watching his daughter sleep as Ben worked through it in his mind, no doubt trying to figure out another point to argue. 

George had never entertained the idea of a daughter, not even in passing. He wondered why. He had occasionally thought of a son, maybe, if he found the right partner who carried the proper physicality to carry a child like some men did. In reality, he had never doubted that he would die a bachelor. Even after he had met Major Tallmadge and he made it clear he had intentions of winning George's heart along with his respect, he had assumed they would never have children. When months ago he had found him crying just days after he arrived to settle with him in Virginia permanently, and he told George he was sure he was carrying their child, he had always imagined a son.

Now he had both. Lawrence and Helena. She was an angel, and he knew though he loved them the same, she would be the one he doted on. Ben seemed to be on the opposite side of things; though he clearly adored the both of them, it was Lawrence he seemed to reach for the most, without even thinking of it.

There was nothing he wouldn't do to protect any of them, even if it meant whispers and stares whenever they were outside the grounds of Mount Vernon. 

“So,” Ben finally said, breaking the silence in the room, “You think I'm pretty?”

George chuckled, smiling down at his daughter, “If this little one gets your features I have no doubts that we won't have to worry about her making suitable matches.”

“And these unnatural urges...”

“Benjamin,” His voice held a warning, but a distinct jolt of heat went through him, “You're not allowed to strain yourself for the next two months.”

“Who said I was going to be the one to strain myself, Sir?”

George let out a low groan in his throat, taking the few steps to place Helena in bed with her brother.

“You are absolutely impossible.”

“And I have been for as long as you have known me. Now come here, General. That's an order from your Major.”

George let out a shaky breath as he strode over to the bed, opening the buttons of his waistcoat as he went.

He wasn't a General any longer. He could deal with taking orders.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because after the hell that was this last month, everyone needs some fluff.

Ben took over the children's education in Virginia. It only made sense really; he'd been trained for it, and their children would need a tutor. George was elected as President - something that still made Ben's heart swell in pride - and along with it meant New York. As much as it was his home, it didn't sit with him to raise his children in the city. He knew what kind of gossip awaited the three of them there, if they were to live with George and act as the family they are. The abilities Ben’s body had were defects to most people in polite society, and their urges not natural. Though their relationships were tolerated because they produced children as God intended, he was still something that many viewed as more appropriate for some sort of sideshow, rather than the President’s bed. 

So he stayed in Virginia, with the children, shielding them from that mess. It was hard -- unbearable, really, to be away from George, so he filled his days with their lessons, and the additions and upkeep of the house, and corresponding with his friends when he can. Anna has settled well in Connecticut, last he heard, and Abe is as bullheaded as ever. Caleb is... Well, Caleb, he does what he wants, though he intends to be back around December to drink George out of the distillery’s whiskey. 

George sends him letters as well.

They started out sweet when he first left, with affection clearly laced in every word, but still about the mundane. Asking after the crops, how he finds New York stifling without him there, and not only so he could help cool Alex down when he and Thomas got into it. Eliza had come around with the children for dinner, and Alex Junior had followed George around demanding to know where his ‘Law-Law’ was. Von Stuben had come for a visit as well, Walker in tow, and drank him clear out of beer. It’s getting colder, and though he can appreciate a New England autumn, he misses Virginia’s temperatures. 

They would always end in detailing how he missed him. 

How he missed the warmth of his skin, or the ability to reach out and touch him in the night. The way he curled against his chest when they used to bathe together in the tub in his study. The way he looked, flushed and pretty for him, when he's in between his thighs.

He couldn't seem to bring himself to burn those letters, so instead he hid them in the back of the desk of their study. He only hoped the history books leave out those bits of information.

  

George’s first extended stay at home was set for December. The twins were already excited beyond belief for the holidays, and the thought of three whole weeks with their Papa sent them into a constant state of energy. Keeping two children focused was challenging at the most normal of times, but now Ben had no hope in doing so. Laurie at least humored him, pretending to pay attention in his lessons, but Helena was wild, more excited than he had ever seen her. He has to reprimand her more than once, leaving her to sulk in her desk.

One night after supper, just a week before George was set to arrive home, Helena left her drawing pencils on the floor of the west parlor to climb into his lap, taking his face in her tiny hands.

“Are you mad Papa is my favorite?” She asked with a worried frown. Ben almost laughed, but quickly realized she was genuinely upset at the thought of him being distressed. He kissed her little nose instead, brushing the auburn curls out of her face where they’d fallen from her braid.

“Lena, Papa’s always been your favorite, what good would it do for me to be mad about it now?” 

She stared at him with a bashful smile. The expression made something twist in his gut; to anyone else, she took after Ben, but those that had known his brother would easily tell you she was Sam’s mirror image. Minus the hair, of course; the red curls were a Washington trademark at this point. Lawrence was yet again the opposite of his sister; The chiseled face of George, though softer, less severe, along with the thick dark blond hair he had inherited from Ben always falling over his eyes.

His children were really two of the most beautiful things in the world.

“You’re mad when I talk about Papa coming home. You always tell me I need to sit and be quiet when I talk about it.”

“Lamb, I just want you to pay attention, it has nothing to do with that.”

She didn’t look convinced, her little brow furrowed. 

“And do you want to know a secret?” He whispered, and she frantically nodded, her eyes wide.

“Papa is my favorite too.”

Helena just giggled.

 

George arrived with little fanfare, something Ben was pleased about. The first time he returned, it had been with what felt like a whole honor guard, terrifying the children and house slaves alike. He had apparently learned from it, and it’s just George, Billy and a coach. Ben doesn’t even come to meet him; he had arrived earlier than intended, and ended up creeping into the study while Ben was in the middle of a lesson. Helena’s shriek of delight and Lawrence nearly bowling him over when he threw himself at his legs was probably his preferred welcome anyway.

Ben greeted him with a kiss, hand on his jaw, knowing he would really get to say hello later.

George acknowledged that he still had work to be done, and judging from the rather sizable amount of papers Billy toted in Ben simply told the children they were done for the day, knowing he needed the study more than they did. Lawrence left easily enough, knowing how rare it was that his father would allow him out of a lesson for playtime. Helena stood firm, though, pouting.

“Can’t I stay?” Helena’s lower lip wobbled, her eyes wide on purpose. George knelt down on her level, knowing full well what she was trying to do.

“If I’m left alone to finish this today, I promise I’ll be done until I have to go back. Then we can do whatever you want for weeks.”

“Promise?” 

George nodded, expression serious. She thought about it for a second before she bounced up on her toes, pressing a kiss to George’s lips before exiting the room. He watched her go before standing.

“Lucy and Henry might join us for the holiday,” George explained, rounding his desk and beginning to shift through his work, “and Thomas has bought the children presents that should arrive sometime within the next two weeks.”

“I’m sure Alex loved that.”

“I’ve never seen such a glare in my life. Then he went smug when I reminded him he was invited for the New Year since Lawrence missed Alexander Junior and would surely love to show him the whatever new toys he’ll be getting.”

Ben rolled his eyes, perching himself on the corner of George’s desk, “And you claim to have no favorites.” 

“I think I made sure I could never use that excuse the minute I started insisting not only that you didn’t need a separate bed, but that your intelligence tent should be next to our own.”

“At least I know Alex was never privy to that kind of favoritism.”

George shook his head, “I doubt he would’ve welcomed it from the likes of me, at any rate.” George sighed, cupping his jaw. His thumb rubbed across Ben’s cheekbone, marveling in how it felt just to be able to touch him again. It hadn’t been so long that he’d seen him - just a three months, when he had come to see his father and stopped in the city - but that had been borrowed time. It felt like that was all they had, these days.

George pressed a kiss to his lips, before stepping back, “I do have to get this all finished. Best if I’m left to it.”

“Yes Sir,” Ben mocked, standing at attention for a second before turning to leave.

George couldn’t help but swat him on the bottom for his sass.

 

He wasn’t lying when he had to finish things; he had begged off like a child trying to get out of school and left behind a mess. Though John was there if an emergency were to arise, he had far too much to accomplish before he could relax. It was past night fall by the time he finished, after only being interrupted by the children entering to say goodnight. He extinguished all but a single candle, dressing into nightclothes quickly before heading upstairs.

Ben was on his side, his hair unbound against the pillow, and the blankets pulled up as he read whatever book he was currently engrossed in. He sat up when George entered, blankets falling to his waist and baring his chest. George stood for a beat to just take it in, before stepping forward and closing the door behind him.

"It’s such a simple thing, but I have missed sleeping in my own bed more than I really should have any right to."

As he reached for the ribbon that held his hair, Ben beckoned him closer, making him sit on the bed so he could make easy work of it.

"The bed just came in from Philadelphia a few weeks ago. Technically this isn’t you sleeping in your bed, but in mine.”

"Benjamin," he pinched his side, making Ben squeak, "do watch your cheek."

“What with you do if I don’t, Sir? Take me over your knee?” He set George’s ribbon on his nightstand before he started combing out the plait with his fingers, “Because if so, that’s not much of a punishment.”

“I remember when you were such a fine Major, so full of respect and terrified to show insolence,” George sighed as he finished, slipping into bed. Exhaustion loosened Ben’s tongue more than almost anything else could, something George always found amusing, and was willing to play along, “Then I made you a Lieutenant Colonel and it all went to hell. It almost makes me miss that part of the war.”

“No it doesn’t,” Ben grumbled, wiggling himself back against George’s chest until he wrapped his arms around him from behind, “constantly wondering how we were going to get food, freezing, and if we were going to die? You know you’d rather deal with Alex mentally trying to throttle Thomas everyday for the rest of your life rather than that.”

“It is the less stressful of the two, I suppose,” George murmured, kissing Ben’s shoulder, “Though not having to watch Friedrich stare at you like a wolf looking at his prey has been good for stress levels alone.”

“You are still making those looks up in your mind, I see.”

“You never saw his face the first time he laid eyes on you, Ben. I imagine I looked much the same the first time I allowed myself to openly want. Even more than that, the disappointment when I had to make it clear whose bed you shared. You know how he liked to collect pretty young men; you would’ve been his jewel, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m sure Ben would have something to say about that.”

George let out a rather undignified snort. “Benjamin Walker pales in comparison to you, though I admit I am bias.”

Ben turned in his arms, staring at him with an amused, sleepy expression. George trailed a hand down his his back, from broad shoulders to his slim hips; it had always amazed him how his body had bounced back from the twins birth. The only reminder was the long scar that ran across his abdomen, and it did nothing to distract from how lovely he really was. With all the unpleasant talk about Benjamin and what his true intentions were, George always felt like he was the one tricking Ben into something, not the other way around.

“Sap,” Ben said without any heat, before his face softened and his hand cupped George’s cheek, “I’ve missed this while you were gone.” 

George took Ben’s hand with his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss his palm. “I have too. If I long for any part of the war, it was having you within arms reach at any moment.”

Ben chuckled, “If those tents could talk.”

“I’d burn them to the ground so they couldn’t give away our secrets.”

Ben let out a bark of laughter before he pressed his face to George’s chest to contain his giggles. George just held him close, his lips pressed to the crown of Ben’s head as his shoulders shook. God he had missed him.

"Papa? Daddy?"

George sat up, Ben grunting as he was dislodged from his chest. "Yes Darling?"

Helena stood in the door wide-eyed, her nightgown trailing on the ground. 

"Laurie wet the bed but I'm not supposed to tell you."

George sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand, “Is this normal?”

“Only when he has nightmares,” Ben explained, “or if he’s overly excited by something. He’s four, these things happen.”

"Where is he?"

Helena tugged on her braid, "He got Mary to take care of him."

“I can get him...”

“No, I will see to him,” George leaned down and kissed Ben’s forehead, “Go to sleep, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Ben watched him scoop up Helena and leave the room. He closed his eyes for what only felt like a second, though when he opened them as George eased himself back into bed, the candle was snuffed out and George was missing his shirt.

“He needed a bath, and well....”

Ben hummed, drawing George in so he could lie his head on his chest, already half asleep again, “A father’s work is never done.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

 

For all the parties, dinners, and balls they could have attended, Christmas ended up being a rather low key affair. The Knoxs were on their doorstep just a week before the 25th, Henry’s booming voice asking what a man has to do to get a drink signaling their arrival in the middle of lunch. He delighted Helena within seconds of meeting her, and insisted both children call him uncle Henry and his wife auntie Lucy. Lucy greeted Ben with a kiss to his cheek and a rather informal hug. He had met her a handful of times before, and had always liked her; she was a woman who was not to be trifled with, which he respected greatly.

The Hamiltons had send word with Henry that they wouldn’t be coming, Eliza still worried about traveling while James was so young. Lawrence had sulked something fierce after finding out, sad that his Alex wouldn’t be here for the new year. The only thing that had managed to cheer him up was Ben’s father arriving, and then Caleb, the shock of Anna following him into their home making Lawrence beam like Junior didn't even matter, all traces of moodiness gone. The house full with chatter and good company seemed to make the days go even faster, reminding his yet again how much he missed this life when away in New York.

 

He was awoken Christmas morning to Helena’s excitable chatter as Ben groaned and attempted to burrow closer to his chest. George didn't even open his eyes.

“We’ll open presents after breakfast, Lena, go bother someone else.”

She scurried off, slamming the door behind her, no doubt to find someone to feed her breakfast before the sun had fully risen and return to beg for her gifts.

Ben’s hands tugged at his night shirt, shoving it up before running his hands along his sides. He was still naked underneath, having slipped it on to go find more water for them both to clean up with between first and second sleep. Ben let out a rather pleased noise at that revelation before he rolled himself over to slot his hips in between George’s thighs. George gripped his wrists, halting them.

"Your Father is more than likely awake already next door."

Ben raised an eyebrow at George. “Really? You’re still afraid of my father?”

“I’m not afraid,” George balked at the suggestion, “I simply think that it is a smart idea to not make him think there is anything uncouth happening while he is awake just steps away.”

“We’ve been sharing a bed for years. We have children. I don’t think sex is something he would be surprised we have.”

“You do have to admit, with the age difference and the fact that I am closer to his than your own-”

“Fine then. I won’t be calling you Daddy. That will make things more comfortable, I’m sure.”

George, unsure of what to do, just pushed him off his chest as Ben broke into hysterical laughter at the horrified expression on his face.

The rest of the day past with a frenzy of gifts, food and people. It was the first year the children were actually aware of the holiday and able to participate, and they took it in stride. Helena reveled in the attention as usual, while Laurie shyly peaked out from behind Ben's legs, charming various well wishers who had stopped by (and, more than likely, get a peak of the house that was finally completed and decorated for the holidays.) By the time the last of them had left dinner had rolled around, and George had found himself sitting with a satisfied sigh, glad to be off his feet.

They had all retired to the new room after supper, breaking off into conversations and not willing to end the day. Lucy sat with the girls, paying rapt attention as Helena explained something or another about the rather over the top dollhouse she had received from a gift from Jefferson the week before that they had yet to move to her room. Caleb, Ben and his father sat in the corner talking, Lawrence asleep against his grandfather’s shoulder, one of his toy soldiers clutched in a tiny hand. It was a decidedly homey scene, something George would hold dear when he was forced back into the mess that awaited him in New York.

Next to his perch next to the fireplace, Henry watched him, amused smile on his face.

“It suits you well to be here and not in the city.”

“Does it?”

“Hm,” Henry sipped from his glass of brandy, “I suppose if I had a family I would long for home as well. Surely he really can’t continue to refuse to accompany you?”

“You know how people are,” George sighed. He watched as Ben hefted Lawrence into his arms from his father’s and exited the room, more than likely to put him to bed, “I fear it’ll break him to put up with it. You see the way they attack my character when I disagree with the south, If he was present as a constant reminder that we are in a less than normal arrangement they would rake him over coals to get to me. They’ve done it before.”

Henry snorted, “You can’t honestly be thinking of that halfwit Arnold, are you? He’s a spineless, power-hungry coward, George.”

“Yet he managed to create discord in camp by letting every soldier this side of the world know I had a man in my bed. If I did anything Congress didn’t believe in, it became a question of whether or not our pillow talk had changed them. Now it would be questions about whether the north were getting better deals because I have a yankee spreading his thighs for me.”

“Oh but what thighs they are,” Henry grinned at his glare, “Oh come off it, man.”

“Last I heard, you lacked those inclinations, Knox.”

“And still do, though I’m not afraid to admit he is rather comely. And if he was just any boy he could’ve just as easily been courted into bed by Andre as he was by you and spilled his secrets while wrapped up in that man’s sheets. He wasn’t. He worships you, George, did then and does now. If you long for him, why not get him to the city to be with you?”

“There’s also the children to worry about. I don’t... they don’t deserve to grow up in the gossip riddled hellhole that is that city.”

“Let them talk. It doesn’t effect you.”

“You cannot tell me it wouldn’t bother you at all to hear the whispers about Lucy.”

“The dear girl would know not to be concerned, and would have anyone who dare talked destroyed as she saw fit,” Henry waved him off, “Though you have a different situation, of course. Your boy isn’t some society woman, content with a good marriage and a good life, like half of congress has in their beds at home while they fraternize with whores. He’s a handsome Yale educated veteran, top of his class, who probably could be elected if he would let anyone know what it was he actually did in the war. There’s reason enough to make them nervous, and I can see why they would insist on speaking lowly of him behind closed doors.”

“You would be bothered if they still tried to convince everyone she was a common whore.”

Henry frowned, confused, “Come again?”

“Arnold told everyone he had attempted to bring him to his bed and succeeded.”

Henry’s eyebrows shot up, “What?”

George would never forget the first time it had happened as long as he lived; Ben’s shirt ripped, his face red with embarrassment and anger and his eye already swelling shut. He had angrily explained that it wasn’t the first time someone had made a pass at him due to rumors, but it was the first time they had gotten physical. Ben could usually handle himself, but this time there were three of them, and it was no use. George had wanted blood, but Ben refused. He was embarrassed, and hated the idea of what a court martial hearing would drag up, that they would have to lay out the intimate details of their relationship. After that night he refused to allow Ben to sleep alone, insisting he be at his side whenever he could be. It didn’t matter much; he had come to him at night with a split lip or a black eye three more times before the war ended.

Still, he can’t exactly tell Henry that. So he settles on the basics, “It wasn’t a pleasant experience. I made sure it was as contained as it could be, but it didn’t mean it didn’t get discussed. Doesn’t mean it still doesn’t get discussed.”

Despite his reassurances, Henry’s knuckles were white around his glass, his expression pinched just so.

“I would’ve killed him if I had known. Hell, I’m surprised Hamilton didn’t fly into a rage and do it.” 

“He nearly throttled an infantry man who swore that he succeeded,” George sighed, “It would be worse, I think, in New York.”

And it would, there was no doubt about that. If the rumors didn’t get to George, they would get to Ben, and someone would end up with a black eye or a split lip. It was the last thing they needed with the government being so fragile. 

Thankfully Helena came bounding over to the two of them, a bright smile on her face, ending their conversation. Henry stooped to lift her up immediately, resting her on his hip without a second thought. 

“Papa, Auntie Lucy said me and Auntie Anna could come for a visit to Boston in the spring, just the girls!”

“Well of course you are welcome, my dear,” Henry’s voice was booming, his grin contagious, “Your auntie Lucy will show you all the best there is to offer. Now come show uncle Henry what Jefferson decided to spoil you with, so I can be sure to out do the man in a few months for your birthday.”

And just like that, the two of them were drawn back into the center of their families.


End file.
